


The Kind of Girl I Was, Right or Wrong

by thewindupbird



Category: Brothers of the Head (2005)
Genre: Character Study, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-05
Updated: 2012-07-05
Packaged: 2017-11-09 05:39:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/451971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewindupbird/pseuds/thewindupbird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Prompts from 1sentence on Livejournal</p></blockquote>





	The Kind of Girl I Was, Right or Wrong

**LAURA ASHWORTH**

**#01 ~ Speak ~** At six years old, Laura’s hair had never been cut and hung freely down to her hips. Any attempts her mother made at braiding it failed miserably. The table was silent, her four brothers eating as though they hadn’t in weeks, and her mother and father at opposite ends of the table consuming the potatoes and string beans and the bits of chicken that were rather dry in a bored sort of way – or perhaps it was just boring. She kicked her feet, the heels of her well-shined black shoes (that she hated and vowed to ruin as soon as possible) against the wooden bar of the chair until her father cleared his throat and looked at her.

She caught her second youngest brother’s eyes across the table – he was looking at her disapprovingly so she stuck her tongue out at him (“Laura!” her mother exclaimed) and wished that her family had something to talk about besides Engels, Elgar and Earle.

 

 **#02 ~ Touch ~** She was twelve and Mother was sick. It was just before five in the morning and no one else was awake – it was her favourite time of day because she was alone and no one was making the rest of the room uncomfortable – no one knew what to say to each other so when everyone was up and about she tried to stay away from them all in order to avoid the tension. It was raining lightly outside and she was lying on her stomach on the window-sill, her legs crossed at the ankle and supported by the wall behind her as she read one of her father’s half-finished writings that she wasn’t supposed to be reading. Nikola McLaren – what an interesting pen name. Laura knew she would always use her own – even if she wrote something scandalous because what was the point of hiding to make a point? If you had to hide, your point probably wasn’t strong enough to be said in the first place.

A movement outside caught her eyes and she glanced up and her eyes widened as she saw her brother wrap his arms around girl she had never seen before, hands definitely in inappropriate areas and Laura wondered what it would feel like to be touched there by someone else. Then they parted and the girl swung one leg over her bike and disappeared

The front door was pushed open and Laura and her eldest brother froze – both caught in the act of something they shouldn’t be doing. She hadn’t even thought to hide the manuscript, to sit up and get her shoes off of the wall, but both of them knew in an instant that they couldn’t tell on each other. A slow grin slowly spread over her face.

“Shut up, Laura,” he said before disappearing upstairs to get some sleep.

She rolled onto her side, calling after him, “I didn’t say anything!”

 

 **#03 ~ Memory ~** Laura, a little too thin for almost nineteen, pushed open the door to her mother’s room, pushing her lose hair out of her face and balancing a tray of the same meal they had last night ( _waste not, want not_ ). “I’m going to study for a bit after this, so if you want--” Her mother’s eyes were staring blankly at the ceiling, her mouth partially open and Laura froze, just staring at her. She didn’t need to go over to touch her skin to see if it was cold.

“Oh,” she said before slowly backing out of the room. She made it all the way downstairs and into the kitchen before her breath shuddered out of her in one long, low rush after she set the tray down on the counter. She actually went through all the motions of unloading the tray and putting everything away before she stopped. No one else was home – all of her brothers had moved away and father was off to some meeting – what was it again?

She realised she was staring out the window into the night and thought that that was as good a place as any.

She was outside quickly, hurrying down the steps in case she was going to be sick because she certainly felt it. Her eyes fell on the first human being walking up the street – Ricky Hayes, thank God, thank _God_ , and she made for him.

She never mention her mother and as he moved over her later that night she kept her eyes on his face to avoid seeing her mother behind the darkness of her closed eyelids.

 

 **#04 ~ Vanilla ~** She had started writing as a real journalist and her favourite spot was in a little hidden-away cafe where she ordered vanilla coffee because it was the strangest thing on the menu, even though she wasn’t sure she liked the taste. She wasn’t oblivious to the looks that the man behind the counter gave her whenever she came in, but he didn’t really interest her. In fact, she was bored – she was out on her own, yes, and that had been exciting for a while, but she still felt like she was missing something. She was only twenty – there had to be more that just this. She wasn’t even really writing about anything she was interested in.

_“I know! It was so bloody stupid! And then he told me that he couldn’t see me anymore because of it!”_

_“He didn’t?!”_

_“That’s what I said! I_ can’t _believe it.”_

And it certainly wasn’t in those squawking girls that came in packs and brought their complaining and their silly problems. They talked about men as though they were dogs.

 She always left when they arrived. It was too hard to concentrate.

 

 **#05 ~ Chocolate ~** She’d gone from vanilla coffee to black – the colour of real, unsweetened chocolate because that was a part of her vicarage-life that she hadn’t quite shed- that plainness. Laura thought that the plainness of things that really wasn’t so bad. It was nice even; until you started to incorporate it and the other things from the Good Book into life, into places where they weren’t meant to go.

Laura wasn’t sure where she stood with religion now but she wouldn’t dare tell her father that.

 

 **#06 ~ Ways and Means ~** She still wasn’t impressed with the work she was getting after just graduating at twenty-three. It was still so centred on Women’s Lib and other things that she was forced into as a little girl, and now wanted to be far away from. This was why she started the Unofficial Interviewing. She knew she was nowhere near being a music journalist – she didn’t know enough about music – but the people in the bands were interesting and nothing like uptight society in the rest of this city. Their views were bigger, wider. She loved it. She felt like if she could just reach out a little more, she might belong here. More than once she went home with one of them... sometimes the back of their vans would suffice but she didn’t like straightening her clothes in front of the rest of the laughing and whistling band members when everything else was said and done.

 

 **#07 ~ Belief ~** She knew for a fact that she didn’t believe in God anymore – and if she did then she certainly wasn’t a Christian. If God existed, let him do with her what he would because punishing herself for everything that she had fallen into would kill her, and it hurt too much. And besides, this life – it cried out to her and she loved it all and there was one of the most beautiful, gracefully-awkward men she had ever seen up on that stage and she was set to meet with them after the show.

 

 **#08 ~ Linger ~** He was nearly seven years younger than her, but he didn’t look it. Dark-ringed eyes never really fixed on her as she rattled off question and he answered along with the rest of the band. This was Chris Dervish and he was crazy. He leaned a little into the smallish, quiet, dark-haired boy next to him and lit the end of his fag off of the same match that he did and she watched the smile that they shared. Chris’s was mischievous and a little wicked, but the other boy’s was nothing but sweetness... what was his name again? He caught her looking and shook out the match as his eyes found the table top. Chris pushed his chair back on two legs and regarded her. Laura didn’t linger there – unsure about the look in the singer’s eyes, but she wrote down the time and date of their next show before Chris’s chair slipped from under him with a clatter and a slight flailing of limbs and he hit the ground with a curse before the whole room burst into laughter. His cigarette hadn’t even been bent and was still hanging from the side of his mouth and she had to smile. He was different – even from the other bands. He held her attention and she found herself thinking about him a bit too much in the weeks that followed.

 

 **#09 ~ Illuminance ~** The Noize was the first band she ever really got to know and it quickly became clear that they were far less innocent than she had first perceived them to be. Several more interviews followed and a few excerpts were published (in bigger articles – she wasn’t even credited, but she was paid, which was a little disappointing) – Paul, the quieter one, opened up to her and she found herself thinking of him as a friend – one of her first in a very long time – maybe ever. His eyes were fixed on the black ash his fag left on the Humbleden steps as he scraped it out and told her just how close he really was to Chris – off the record of course – and she smiled.

“I’m fairly sure I already knew that, Paul.”

Paul let out a laugh that betrayed his nervousness and his relief and she felt like she could be in love with him if he wasn’t already in love with someone else – the only problem was that she was jealous, a little, and she realised then that her feelings for Chris were probably a little less than innocent.

 

 **#10 ~ Ornament ~** “Chris!” Laura looked up from her notes that she was reading over as Paul shot up from his chair and crossed the room to the taller boy. At first she didn’t understand until the blood began to slip from between his clenched fingers. He opened his hand to reveal a crushed glass light bulb – his blood colouring it the same colour as the Christmas ornaments she remembered from home and she was glad that Humbleden never really did anything for the season except drink, fuck, drug and party – any excuse really

“It was burnt out,” Chris said too calmly. He brushed at it and it fell to the floor except for the pieces that were embedded in his palm.

“God, Chris,” Paul said, gently taking that hand and pulling it towards him. Chris followed Paul into the kitchen and she heard the water running and their soft voices.

Her heart was beating a little too fast as she tried to go back to her notes.

 

 **#11 ~ _Coup de foudre_ ~ ** The chair scraped loudly across the kitchen floor and Laura looked up, startled. Chris tilted his head and smiled at her across the table. “What are you doing?”

“Writing an article.”

She’d never really been this alone with him before and she wondered what on earth he was doing up at this hour of the night – or morning, rather.

“What are _you_ doing?” she countered.

“Cocaine.”

She hesitated a moment, then she smiled at him. “Really?”

He held the bag up between them but when she reached for it, he snatched it away. She raised her eyebrows.

“Want some?” he asked.

She hesitated – at a party was one thing. Alone with Chris was another.

He leaned closer and she tensed a little – not in nervousness; something else. “Okay,”

They ventured outside into the freezing cold of the night – it was too cold to snow and she shivered, but the drug hit quickly.

It was _Chris_ that leaned in and kissed _her_ and she wondered what he meant by it.

Apparently not much, because the soft sounds from behind Paul’s closed door as she passed it near dawn definitely proved that Paul and Chris were still very much together.

 

 **#12 ~ Archway ~** After the gig Laura found Paul and Chris leaning against opposite sides of the stone arch quietly sharing a fag. Chris slid down enough to kick Paul’s boot with his own. “What?” he asked, barely audible to her at her distance.

Paul met his eyes, and Laura caught the faintest of looks in her direction –stopping her before she reached them – Paul shook his head and smiled down at his shoes. “Nothing.”

Chris frowned, leaning his head back against the cool stone and stared up at the sky. Nick called them all back to the van and Laura was glad to go – something about those last few moment had been entirely too uncomfortable.

 

 **#13 ~ Fate ~** “You know all about fate, right?” Chris asked.

“Fate or faith?” She questioned.

“Fate – is it that if you off yourself?”

“ _What?_ ”

“If you kill yourself, yeah? Is that fate or... not?”

“I don’t know. Why?”

“Why _not_?”

His words left her feeling cold. She felt like his _‘Why not’_ was more than just a retort to her question.

 

 **#14 ~ Pulse ~** There was a crash from upstairs and everyone looked up. Paul was the first one on the stairs, Nick not far behind. “Oi!” They heard Nick shout and then Paul’s voice – his words indistinguishable, and Laura realised as she wheeled around the corner that it hadn’t been words at all. Chris was sprawled in the hallway, a pool of vomit several feet from him and he was white as a corpse.

Paul was spilling words now, Chris’s name and “OhGodohGod” and then, finally, “Call a fucking ambulance, will you?”

Laura turned and flew down the steps, slipping past Tubs and the Ronnie and flying down the hallway to the phone – she felt very different than she had when her mother had died and she wondered if Chris even had a chance.

 

 **#15 ~ Envelope ~** Chris slit open a manila-coloured envelope and spilled out a little pile of pills onto the table and hands reached for them from every direction.

“What is it?” Laura asked.

“Makes you love everything – everyone.” Chris said as he slipped one into his mouth then turned to kiss Paul on the corner of his lips. Paul lowered his eyes and looked so sad for a moment – only Laura noticed – before he turned his head and kissed Chris back.

A few people laughed and Laura realised that Paul still hadn’t out and out told anyone about their relationship but her. She put the pill she’d taken back on the table and left the room. A rush of laughter followed her and she felt a rush of anger.

 

 **#16 ~ Cold ~** “I don’t understand,” Laura said after Paul explained Chris’s latest violent episode followed by another of his cold silences that hurt Paul so much. She let her eyes fall to the bruise on his wrist as he brought his fag to his lips and he caught her looking. He blew out a stream of smoke, shaking his sleeve back down.

“Me neither.”

 

 **#17 ~ Need ~** Chris came to her by accident, nearly colliding with her as she came out of her room. She let out a tiny startled noise and his hand pressed over her mouth, half laughing as he said “Ha, shh!” There was a moment of silence and slowly he pulled his hand away – it was freezing and she wondered if he had been outside. He walked her back the three steps into her room and pushed the door shut behind him.

There were a few uncertain steps, careful movements between them before he leant down and kissed her and she let him.

 

 **#18 ~ Drunk ~** It was intoxicating. She had never had sex standing, but Chris had her up against the wall of her room and he was surprisingly gentle. He didn’t say anything to her as he unzipped her jeans and pulled them down and she dragged her fingers through his hair. They didn’t bother with all their clothes – they weren’t really that attracted to each other’s bodies anyway.

“Paul?” she asked as he zipped his fly. He met her eyes.

“Chris,” he said before slipping out of her room. It took her a moment to realise that it had been a joke, but it wasn’t funny.

When she met Paul at breakfast and he smiled at her and said something like “He’s speaking to me again,” she wanted to take him in her arms and confess, but she didn’t.

“Oh, good!” she said, pushing her coffee away, untouched.

 

 **#19 ~ Mask ~** Chris was, as always, a creature to marvel at onstage. He brought everything to life, it seemed, almost effortlessly, but Laura slipped backstage just as the show ended and she got to see the faces of the band as they passed through the doors – the way Chris would go directly across the room to his coat where he kept his syringes – then disappear out into the van - the way Paul would look up only after the door slammed shut behind the singer – on the way home Chris would stare blankly at the floor of the car, heroin coursing through his veins. He needed it more than any of them now, and Laura wondered what his fans would think if they could see him now.

 

 **#20 ~ Rose ~** Laura remembered the black roses that would sometimes be used for funerals – they were at her mother’s funeral, dyed that colour because real black roses were an impossibility. She had wanted something else – something with more colour because her mother had lived such a dreary life anyway – why shouldn’t she have something to brighten it up in her death? But her father wouldn’t hear of it. Maybe she was thinking about death so much because Chris kept talking about it.

 

 **#21 ~ Two ~** Laura rolled over, half asleep, and it took her a moment to realise that Chris was shuddering hard next to her. “Chris?” She touched his shoulder, and he was soaked in sweat, but he was freezing. That woke her up – “Oh, God,” she said, getting out of bed and turning the light on. 2 a.m. He was so pale, shaking so hard his teeth were chattering. His hair was sticking to his face and she knelt next to him, pulling him close, and pushed it back. His eyes fixed on hers and he said something but she couldn’t understand. Her heart pounding, she pulled a sweater on over her head and hurried into her jeans before moving like a ghost down the hallway to Paul’s room. He had been awake because he answered the door almost instantly, still fully dressed.

“Chris,” he said, and went to him before she could say anything. By morning, Chris was sleeping peacefully again and neither Laura nor Paul mentioned anything to Nick or Zak – Zak was nearing his wits end with Chris’s antics, and Paul got the feeling that he was sick of paying for repairs for everything in the house that Chris had destroyed.

Laura wondered how Zak would pay when Chris destroyed himself.

 

 **#22 ~ Fresh ~** Laura understood that fresh starts were not possible. You could run away from everything but that wouldn’t change the fact that it had happened. She knew that, but she didn’t like it. For a while, Chris and Paul were speaking again – back to friends and she felt a sense of relief, but she knew that they weren’t back together because they no longer sat close, they no longer shared their cigarettes and when Chris threw a tantrum or stormed out of a room, Paul did not follow him. She wondered what everything would be like had she turned Chris down that first night when he came into her room – but she would never know and it was far too late now to try to fix everything. Fresh starts were overrated anyway – it would only be so long before you royally fucked everything up again. Humans were naturally creatures of destruction. Chris only proved this. Still, it was painful to watch.

 

 **#23 ~ Bribe ~** The night of a gig and Chris never showed up. Paul was pressed against the passenger door of the van while Nick ranted and raved beside of him while they swerved down one street and up another. Laura sat in the back with Tubs, Ron and the rest of the crew. “Stop,” Paul said, his arm shooting out to grab Nick’s forearm, “Stop. He’s there.”

They all watched as Paul got out of the van – Nick knew by now that Chris Dervish would get violent with him, and they didn’t need that. They watched Paul cross the street, hesitating several yards behind Chris and a tall blonde man. Chris, who was hunched over as though freezing in the warm night looked behind him at Paul when the blonde bloke looked over his shoulder.

Paul didn’t move any closer, and finally there was an exchange of money, a couple of bags of white powder exchanged for the even smaller quantities of heroin that Chris pushed into his pocket as though it was the most precious thing the world – and everyone else was after it.

Chris walked back to Paul and stopped in front of him, and for a moment Laura thought they might embrace but they didn’t. Chris sidestepped around the older man and disappeared from her line of vision. A few moments later the back door the van was pulled open and Chris climbed inside, pushing himself into a corner away from everyone else where he squeezed and tapped at his left arm erratically.

Nick was yelling again – this time at Chris instead of about him until finally Paul said, “Shut up, Nick, okay?”

Laura watched Chris’s eyes settle on Paul who was still leaning against the door, staring out into the night. He didn’t look away for a very long time, his long fingers stilled.

 

 **#24 ~ Error ~** Society shunned people like them but Zak took them all in. She didn’t think it was out of the kindness of his heart – Laura had never seen so many screwed up people collected under one roof, except for maybe her own home but at least they had blood ties. It was very obvious that things here would never work out for long. She thought about leaving many a time, but that would feel like giving up what she couldn’t give up on – Chris. She felt like she could save him – she always had, but for the first time he’d spoken softly into her neck for the better part of an hour about how he wanted to fix things, to change them, maybe make things right with Paul, maybe try to quit the heroin again because he’d tried so many times, and she knew she couldn’t leave him. She got the wild idea in her head that she could fix Chris Dervish. She had no way of understanding the complexities of doing that, and that was the error in her ways. She had no idea of what it would take out of her and she didn’t let herself contemplate what it already had. That was the thing about Chris – you didn’t realise he was sucking you dry until he already had.

 

 **#25 ~ Appetite ~** There was something about Chris that Laura couldn’t get enough of. She was never completely satisfied. At first she had thought that it was the music – the sexual ranting, right? But no, it was more than that. Maybe it was the fact that she knew she could never have him because Chris’s eyes would flicker from hers to Paul, halfway across the rehearsal room. She was used to being able to hold a man’s attention, but Chris had always been different. She knew that Chris was still in love with Paul.

 

 **#26 ~ Refrain ~** She didn’t want to hurt Paul, so when he brought Chris up she kept her mouth shut for once. She knew that he knew that she and Chris were sleeping together now. Who didn’t? Fuck, who didn’t? She was surprised Paul was still being civil, but that was just what Paul did. Paul was never cruel to anyone, not even her.

 

 **#27 ~ Family ~** All these people Zak had brought here – they’d been knitted together in an intimate way, even if they didn’t want to be. There were too many people who needed affection, understanding and love and never got it. There was too much anger, too many secrets and too much hurt and betrayal, but Laura had never felt more at home anywhere else. Humbleden was beautiful, she loved it... and she was afraid she was getting attached. She packed up in the middle of the night – one where Chris hadn’t come to her room because he was passed out in the recording room with a few other people who had been shooting up – this week’s attempt at quitting the drug had lasted less than 24 hours. She had her hand on the doorknob of her room, but she stopped... something told her not to leave. Not yet. She knew she was too close to these people, but it felt nice... to have friends – to have someone to touch while she slept. It was just because Chris wasn’t here that she was getting anxious.

 

 **#28 ~ Grieve ~** When Chris died she had been lucky enough to have been out of Humbleden. She’d gone into the city to see if being away from the madness would calm her nerves. It didn’t. She had her legs curled under her at a booth in a tiny restaurant with her coffee before her, a few of her articles in a file and the paper... it was three pages in. Chris was dead. He had driven his car into the Reservoir. She locked herself in the bathroom – intensely nauseated, and then she dropped to her knees and began to cry. She couldn’t breathe. She hurt so much she couldn’t feel it anymore.

 

 **#29 ~ Vapour ~** Laura didn’t let herself get tied down. She had spent too long breaking free of those ties that held her. She boarded the first train out of London and she was gone. She didn’t buy another paper to reread the article, take it in. She didn’t need to embed it in her mind anymore. Yes she had loved Chris, yes she would miss him, but that was done now. She needed to move on. The past could never mean anything. Just smoke. Vapour.

 

 **#30 ~ Tea ~** Laura didn’t like being alone. She curled up in her small apartment surrounded by books and her writing and gazed out the window, her hands around a cup of tea. Why was it that nothing ever felt right? She always felt like there was something missing – not something she had lost – she had grown used to that. It was something she hadn’t found yet.

 

 **#31 ~ Medicine ~** She’d stopped taking drugs. They made her think she liked the people she woke up with in the morning. It was better to do things like this sober – then she could leave before the light of morning made everything all too real. Sex helped her forget. People who didn’t need to forget anything wouldn’t be able to understand.

 

 **#32 ~ Moth ~** Laura sat with her chin on her arms, which were folded across her knees and watched the kids across the street try to catch the moths fluttering around the lights of the little store. Their father was inside and the two of them, twins, a boy and a girl would always wait for him, every night. He would come out, a large man – always laughing, messing their hair and talking to them. He was genuinely interested in what they had to say. She smiled sadly. Her father had never been like that. There had never been that much affection at the vicarage. Her brothers stopped letting her play with them when she turned eight or nine, so she played by herself – always within their sight so that they could see she was still having fun. After that – that invisible line she’d crossed to make her different from them – even her brothers would hardly touched her unless she annoyed them enough and they gave her a shove. She’d never wanted to play with the other girls in the neighbourhood, and now the little blonde girl across the street reminded her of herself – always climbing higher, shouting louder, determined to win against her brother. Prove that she was just as tough.

Laura took to going into the store in the afternoons. They exchanged names. He was sweet and kind. Eventually he started talking to her about his problems with his wife. She just wanted to help him. Maybe she was doing that by wrapping her white legs around his hips and holding onto the bar of the coat-rack above her head in the back room. He told her she was beautiful. Then he asked her very kindly not to come into his store again. She didn’t.

 

 **#33 ~ Perfect ~** Her father wrote her because she’d written him to tell him she was all right. It had been a while. How was he doing? He said everything was fine, he missed her, that he could use her help around the vicarage but she would be damned before she ever went back there. She wrote back and told him as kindly as she could that she had a life here now (and what was kindness?), she was writing and had he seen her articles? His response came back short and she could tell it had taken him a long time to think of what to write. He didn’t know what to say, but then he had never known how to talk to her. He hoped she would reconsider. She didn’t. He didn’t write again. A year ago she would have found that perfect. Ideal. She didn’t know what she wanted anymore.

 

 **#34 ~ Rope ~** Like in the stories where the characters would hold onto a string while they wandered so they didn’t get lost – so they could find their way back, there was always a connection to Humbleden for her. Songs over the radio written by Paul Day – they sounded cheery enough, but the words were so sad. She thought they never sounded right without Chris singing.

 

 **#35 ~ Wind ~** She was getting sick of the city. The air here was too heavy – the sky too close. The buildings pressed in on her. She missed the openness of the vicarage but not the vicarage itself. She decided that she needed to leave the city one day, holding her groceries, her hair blowing into her face so she had to constantly switch all her bags to one hand and push it away.

 

 **#36 ~ Crossroads ~** Word of mouth – “Did you hear about the twins?” she looked into it – the gig at the Shangri-La. The more she looked into it the more engaged she was. She felt like she knew Tom and Barry Howe – she felt like she could save them. It would mean going back to Humbleden, but maybe... maybe she could do it. It wouldn’t be the same crowd. Chris wouldn’t be there. She did her reading – came up with an article – Exploitation of the Physically Impaired. Besides, how often was it that you got to see Siamese Twins?

 

 **#37 ~ Summer ~** The boys were nothing like she had expected. And she hadn’t expected to run into Tubby Puller or Paul Day again, but it wasn’t that bad. She’d liked both of them and they got along with her well enough. Paul was happier; that was nice to see. She was inevitably staying at Humbleden again, just like in the old days. Summer was approaching. Tom and Barry were on their backs bursting into occasional quickly stifled laughter as they pointed at clouds like children – and she had to remember that really, they were. So many things were kept just between them, but Laura didn’t mind too much. Tom’s hand was lightly stroking her shin where her legs were crossed, reading and there were no snarky, sarcastic comments from Barry. Paul caught her eyes across the lawn and he smiled at her, but didn’t venture closer.

 

 **#38 ~ Candy ~** Barry took those pills like candy. Three at a time – all different things. She wished he wouldn’t. She didn’t like what it did to him or to Tom. This was a part of Barry that frightened her more than his forwardness. This tendency towards self-destruction, no matter how fun-loving or innocent it seemed because it was like Chris. She might not have let herself notice it then, but she noticed it now, and it scared her.

 

 **#39 ~ Photograph ~** She was going through pictures, something that would be thrown away anyway that she could use in an article. She paused, holding one up closer and studying it. Paul and Chris, singing something. Ron and Tubs playing – The Noize. She let out a breath, pushing her hair back over one shoulder. She knew that look that Paul had, eyes on Chris. Awe and concentration and... – that was how Paul had looked at Barry.

 

 **#40 ~ Spoon ~** Paul had fallen asleep on the mattress in the basement – or passed out rather. This was rare. Usually he made it up to his room and didn’t come down until the next afternoon. Barry pulled Tom down next to the bassist and they lay and talked for a while. Laura stood against the wall, arms crossed. Paul looked a lot smaller, a lot more innocent curled as he was on his side. His arms were all pulled into his body. Maybe it was an insecurity thing, maybe he was just cold. She remembered Chris wrapping his arms around Paul from behind and just standing there – fending off Nick’s scoffing with a look. Paul looked cold now. Tom and Barry gradually quieted and Barry rolled onto his back, his shoulder almost touching Paul’s chest – less than an inch away. Tom followed, moving together as they often did in their sleep and she watched Barry turn his face towards Paul, watching him with a look on his face of mingled curiosity and affection. Barry was closer to Paul than to Tom, his legs curved so they didn’t brush Paul’s – a couple inches closer and their bodies would fit each other’s exactly. Barry reached up, touching Paul’s collarbone lightly. Paul stirred and Barry rolled away, tucking his head under Tom’s chin. His eyes were still open but when Paul sat up, Barry closed them – pressing closer to his brother. Tom, in his sleep, wrapped his arm tightly around Barry’s back. She watched Paul stare down at them for several moments – he didn’t know Baz was awake. After a moment he scratched the back of his neck and got a little unsteadily to his feet. Laura looked down, hair falling forward into her face, and she slipped around out of the room before he noticed her.

 

 **#41 ~ Forest ~** Barry was listening to the old Noize albums. They weren’t really his type of music, but he listened to them a lot. Paul would lie on his side on the opposite couch in the basement and talk with him, passing a fag back and forth over the coffee table between them. Paul always tapped it out because Barry would see how long he could keep the ash on. “You’re wasting my fags,” Paul would laugh – never completely serious about it. Laura listened to the words of the songs with Tom who was reading the lyrics from the album as they were sung, sometimes copying them into his notebook.

_In this world I’m love’s tourist_

_And take a package tour of solitude_

_Our love is a forest_.

Laura watched the cigarette travel from Barry to Paul once again, and her eyes shot to Barry’s face as his fingers brushed Paul’s in a way that was unmistakably not an accident. Paul’s face closed off for the briefest of moments, and then he smiled at Barry – sweet and gentle, but it meant nothing, pulling away as though nothing had happened, glancing to the side.

Barry watched him for a moment longer, then looked away as well, taking a drag. Paul’s lyrics were always true.

 _A package tour of solitude_.

 

 **#42 ~ Mirror ~** Laura kissed Tom who was running his hands down her back, clutching her hips, guiding her. He was watching her intently as he always did, and God, she loved him. He only closed his eyes when he reached the peak, pulling her down to him, as close as possible. She could feel the press of the join against her stomach, but she was used to that. She pulled away and rolled onto her side, Tom separating her from Barry, his arm wrapped around her back. Barry was isolated a little, Tom turned more towards her so that Barry had no choice but to sleep on his side. She could tell he didn’t like this. It was hard for him to get comfortable. She would wake up later and he would be shifting with quiet, slightly frustrated sighs escaping his lips. Tom’s soft, sleeping breaths started to lull her to sleep, her head resting on his chest but Laura felt Barry’s eyes on her so looked up after a moment to meet his gaze, starting a little because in the darkness because Barry’s cheekbones looked sharper and his eyes were shadowed so you couldn’t tell they were blue and not grey-green. He looked far too much like Chris.

“D’you want Tommy and me separated?” He was speaking about Tom affectionately so she knew his question was genuinely innocent. There was a childish fear in it.

She hadn’t answered in the time he’d allotted so he spoke again.

“I mean... would it be better?”

Of course it would be better. Probably for all of them.

“If I wanted that, I...” _Wouldn’t be here now?_ She knew that was a lie.

“You can tell me,” Barry said, and he tucked his head down a little, watching her from under his eyelashes in a way that sometimes made her stomach flutter and shot a feeling up her thighs. “I won’t be mad.”

She didn’t know how to answer him. All of the answers sounded hurtful even if they weren’t meant to be. “This is fine, Barry,” she finally said.

There was a long pause and she sat up a little to get a better look at his face. He lowered his eyes then raised his chin, looking at her again.

“You would rather we weren’t like this though, don’t you, Laura.” A vague gesture at his midriff. It wasn’t a question.

“It would be...” _Better. Easier. Less hard on everyone._ “This is fine. It’s good, right?” She asked – suddenly afraid of where this was going. She didn’t want to set Barry off. She hated that feeling. She’d felt it far too much for one lifetime, with Chris.

He searched her face and she knew he understood more than she was letting on. He breathed out a laugh, one corner of his mouth coming up in an almost sarcastic smile and her chest tightened. “Right,” he said.

That wasn’t how she’d wanted that conversation to end, but he refused to speak to her again.

Hours later, she knew that only Tom was still asleep.

 

 **#43 ~ Smoke ~** Where there was smoke, there was fire. Tom’s strumming faltered, then stopped and Laura hadn’t even noticed Baz’s quickened breath until then. Tom must have felt it. He put his guitar down and turned to his brother, everything else forgotten.

“’S not, that’s not... what... no.” Barry was mumbling to himself and Laura looked up at Tom. He was only looking at his twin.

“Barry,”

“Tommy doesn’t want it anymore, does he, Tommy?” Barry asked, tilting his head and meeting Tom’s eyes. His hand had settled on the join.

“What, Barry?”

“Doesn’t want it, stupid fuck.”

Laura should have known things would go bad then.

She only just got out of the way – she hadn’t caught what happened but the boys were up off the couch and stumbling back. Tom hit the table and they both hit the floor. She couldn’t tell which one of them had given a cry of pain. Barry’s hands were clawing at the flesh  at Tom’s stomach and Tom was trying to stop him. She tried to jump in, to help, but it was no use – the boys always managed to isolate themselves physically and mentally. Always.

She didn’t see how it had started and she didn’t see how it ended either. One moment Tom was desperately trying to fend Barry off and the next Barry was leaning against Tom’s chest, gasping into his shoulder and Tom was running his hands over his brothers back saying “Shh, Barry, shh.”

Tom’s forgiveness was something that Laura had fallen in love with.

 

 **#44 ~ Shine ~** God, there were times when she _hated_  Barry because Tom wouldn’t say anything – he couldn’t for fear of hurting Baz who was _constantly_ right there – but he would just stop looking at her and his whole body would stiffen at something Barry whispered in his ear. He would never tell her what it was – she hated how he was upset. She hated Tom’s innocence to Barry’s _My Friend, You Cunt_ and how Barry’s eyes never _once_ left hers when he sang it – as though it wasn’t obvious enough as to who it was for. Why did it have to be that song? Tom told her later that it hadn’t meant anything – just make it show-quality.

She hated how sometimes Tom would pull away from her to lean his head down against Barry’s chest. She hated how sometimes Barry would pull away from that touch – never wanting it when he had it – or perhaps just putting on a show – making it seem that way. She hated how Barry would make everything difficult because this was the third time he’d managed to get Paul Day to kiss him. She hated how Paul would try to leave and couldn’t because he didn’t want to and because Barry was relentless. She hated to see Paul’s confusion and the way he isolated himself after these intervals.

But sometimes Barry would look up at her and smile, just for no reason and it was a genuine smile that meant that he liked her underneath everything. Or he’d reached out and take her hand like a child and make her look at that, look, explain. Tom was just as curious as Barry, but Barry was more open about it. She loved that he would ask her. He had the ability to brighten a room – make disgusted faces when he tried her cups of black coffee – make a comment that was surprisingly funny... he had a light, Barry did, and she wondered if his violence wouldn’t leave him completely – if Tom’s sadness wouldn’t disappear if they didn’t have to find their way around each other to live – if they didn’t have to accommodate the other, constantly, to function.

 

 **#45 ~ Balloon ~** Problems didn’t go away if you ignored them. They got bigger – ballooned out of proportion. Barry didn’t know that – Laura didn’t know how to explain it to him because she was too afraid to.

Barry started awake, making her jump because she’d been awake – she was used to Tom being shocked into wakefulness, but not Barry. One of his hands flew to his temple and he squeezed his eyes shut, “Shut up!”

She didn’t say anything. Tom stirred – Barry’s adrenaline hitting him. Barry pushed closer and Tom made a soft sound, Barry’s name escaping his lips in a half-moan, questioning.

“It’s like he’s right there, Tommy. It was like...”

“Nothing’s there,”

“You know there is,”

“It was just a dream.”

“...a dream.”

Tom rolled back onto his back, pulling Barry half onto his chest. Laura was still curved around his side and he glanced at her. Twin blue eyes were on hers and she reached out and pushed a hand through Barry’s hair. He made a sound that might have been displeasure, closing his eyes again and curling into himself. After a moment though, he relaxed and she ran her thumb over his ear before meeting Tom’s eyes again.

Tom searched her face, then looked away, pressing his face into Barry’s hair.

They all slept.

 

 **#46 ~ Vine ~** The boys were arguing about something across the garden. Laura could tell from where she was standing that it was about her because Barry kept looking over and Tom kept trying to bring his brother’s attention back to him. She crushed out her cigarette and toyed with the leaves of the vines growing up the walls of Humbleden behind her, keeping her eyes down. She didn’t like when Barry looked at her like that because it meant that Tom got quieter later... she knew that he was never angry at her and she knew she was being childish for being upset... Barry meant a lot to Tom... she knew that.

 

 **#47 ~ Butterfly ~**  Laura stepped outside and froze. The image in front of her was priceless and she wished for a moment that she was carrying a camera with her instead of her tape recorder. Tubs, Spitz, Paul, Tom and Barry were sitting around the circular table outside all of them staring intently at Barry who was coaxing a butterfly from the edge of the table onto his hand... well – except for Spitz – he was reading the paper.

She’d never seen Barry so concentrated, moving so slowly. Paul’s smile burst over his face like sunshine when Barry succeeded, slowly pulled it closer, to him jumping a bit when it’s wings gave a fluttering spasm and as though reading his brother’s mind, Tom raised his hand over Barry’s, keeping the delicate creature there balanced between the singer’s index finger and thumb.  Nick came out behind her and the door slammed. The creature gave flight and Barry’s whole face hardened again – like it normally was, she realised with a jolt... it never struck her until then how much innocence both of the boys had lost in their personalities... in their faces... his blue eyes met hers then flickered past her to Nick and he looked down, sullen again.

 

 **#48 ~ Gloves ~** The boys had gloves with them so she couldn’t understand why they didn’t wear them – boys being boys again. They stood outside Humbleden, smoking with the rest of the band while they watched Nick fume around the van because he’d locked the keys inside.... which were, unfortunately, also connected to the keys to the house. No one else had thought to bring theirs – why should they? They never had before. Tom handed the fag to Barry who was hunched and trying hard not to shiver; unlike Paul who was doing just that shamelessly beside him, hands jammed deep into his pockets. The twins hands were red and frozen looking and Laura stepped forward after a moment, taking Tom’s in her own. He smiled at her and she stepped closer. She saw Barry look at them out of the corner of her eye, then look away. She stepped closer to Tom and he slid his hands into the pockets of her long coat, holding her hips, resting his chin on the top of her head after a moment as she leaned against his chest. “Barry,” she said softly.  
“Wot?” he wasn’t looking at her – an edge to his tone, so she mumbled a “Never mind,” and looked away. She felt Tom turn his head to glance at Barry.

“Who wants to walk up the road and find a phone?” Paul asked – they could call for a spare key.

“I do,” said Barry, and Paul looked at him. Tom didn’t want to go, and he let Barry know it by stepping closer to Laura. The bassists huffed softly, watching the steam of his breath missed before him. “I’ll go,” Tubs said after a moment when it was clear Tom wasn’t coming – there wasn’t a big scene made out of it, but Laura could feel tension between the brothers.

Paul smiled at Barry and she watched him through her lashes – the way he touched Barry’s arm before he left. Barry watched him go.

 

 **#49 ~ Venom ~** The boy’s difference spread through the house like a poison. Everyone was walking on eggshells even though the boys were keeping to themselves. She didn’t understand that. It seemed like they couldn’t stand each other more than half the time and yet Barry and Tom would be pressed so close to each other as they argued back and forth over the smallest thing... they weren’t like normal sibling fights though. She knew what those sounded like... she knew how Tom and Barry were when they were bantering... now it was different.

She watched Paul and Tom avoiding each other’s eyes when they spoke – she watched how Barry kept trying to catch Paul’s attention.

Paul looked up and caught her eye and they both looked away.

 

 **#50 ~ Remain ~** It was a long time since she’d left Humbleden she’d long given up on fate _Do you believe in fate?_ _No... not anymore...._

It hailing outside, enough to hurt so she’d ducked into an old, used book store just until it let up a bit. She ran her hands over the cracked spines, knowing that she really didn’t need any more books. A familiar laugh met her ears and she looked up before she even thought about who it could be. Paul stood there, talking with the book-keeper, a young dark-haired boy. The smile had already faded from his face as he stared down at the books that the kid hand his fingertips on – explaining its contents. She took him in – so many differences, the glasses, the darker clothes – nothing that he would have worn in the 70s – a kind of quiet fashion now. Dark material – heavy and warm looking. His hair was greying and he looked... tired, but his eyes were the same, when he smiled it conjured up Paul at 25, at 18 with ease. His accent, the way he spoke, it was all achingly familiar... and Laura didn’t know why she slipped out of the store without speaking to him.

Let the past remain in the past maybe... and well... yes, maybe she believed in fate after all...

**Author's Note:**

> Prompts from 1sentence on Livejournal


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